Old Iron, Good Water, and the Rio Grande Gorge

There’s something about driving an old Land Cruiser through northern New Mexico that makes you appreciate taking the long way around.

I’d been camped with my family about an hour outside of Taos in the Carson National Forest, enjoying a few days away from the usual routine. No hotel, no real schedule, just a tent, some fishing gear, and my 1983 Toyota FJ40.

One morning, I slipped off and pointed the old Toyota toward the Rio Grande Gorge to spend the day fly fishing with Ian from Taos Fly Shop.

There’s Nothing Quite Like a Good Fly Shop

I’ve always had a soft spot for a good fly shop. Not the kind where someone tries to sell you the most expensive rod on the wall, but the kind where you can walk in knowing absolutely nothing about the local water and walk out feeling like you’ve made a few new friends—and, maybe more importantly, without feeling like the outsider you really are. The kind of place where a five-minute question turns into a thirty-minute conversation about hatches, river conditions, old fishing stories, and a stretch of water you probably wouldn’t have found on your own.

Taos Fly Shop is one of those places.

Every time I’ve called or stopped in, the guys have been genuinely friendly, patient, and generous with their knowledge. Whether you’re asking what flies are working, where to fish, or how to approach a particular piece of water, they seem to genuinely enjoy helping you figure it out. There’s a difference between knowing a lot about fly fishing and enjoying sharing what you know.

These guys do both.

I think that’s something worth appreciating in a world where so much of the buying experience has become transactional. A good fly shop is a gathering place, a source of local knowledge, and often the beginning of a pretty good story.

In fact, this particular story started at another great fly shop.

My friend Joseph, whom I met at Tailwaters Fly Shop in Dallas, used to work with Ian at Taos Fly Shop. When he learned I’d be fishing around Taos, he recommended I spend a day with them and Ian. One friendship made in a fly shop in Texas led to another connection on a river in New Mexico. That’s a pretty good illustration of what makes this little community special.

Into the Gorge

The Rio Grande Gorge is one of those places that’s difficult to appreciate until you’re standing in it.

The landscape around Taos is wide open, with mountains in the distance and high desert stretching in nearly every direction. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the earth opens up and the Rio Grande cuts its way through the volcanic rock below. It’s rugged country, and exactly the kind of place I enjoy spending my time.

For the day, I brought along my Winston Air 4w paired with a Ross Colorado reel. It’s a lightweight setup that makes catching trout a whole lot of fun, especially when you’re fishing water with this much character. We fished a Chubby Chernobyl dry-dropper rig, suspending a couple nymphs beneath the dry fly. It’s a simple, effective way to cover different parts of the water column without constantly changing your setup.

Throughout the day, I managed to bring both brown trout and cutbows to hand. I caught somewhere around 15 fish in a half day and probably missed that many more. But as good as the fishing was, spending the day with someone who knows and appreciates the river made the experience even better.

More Than the Fish

I’ve caught enough fish over the years to know that the number you land rarely determines whether you’ve had a good day. Sure, catching browns and cutbows on a beautiful stretch of the Rio Grande made for some great fishing. But what I’ll remember just as clearly is the drive through northern New Mexico in the old FJ40, the conversations with Ian, seeing that otter slithering through the water like a snake, and the connection that started with Joseph back in a Dallas fly shop. I asked Ian if he smoked cigars. He said, “I’ll smoke one with ya.” So I packed him one for later. I even sent him home with a Rugged Series Tube.

I think the best fly shops understand something that a lot of businesses have forgotten. People might walk through the door looking for flies, tippet, or a new rod, but what brings them back is how they were treated. The advice. The conversation. The willingness to help a complete stranger have a better day on the water. That’s what makes a fly shop worth returning to, and it’s why Taos Fly Shop has become one of my favorites.

The Long Way Home

At the end of the day, the trout were back in the river, the Winston was packed away, and I had an hour’s drive back to camp in a Land Cruiser that’s more than four decades old. No hurry to get anywhere. Just an old Toyota, a good day of fishing behind me, another cigar on the drive, and another evening in the Carson National Forest ahead.

Somewhere along the way, between the recommendation from a friend, the hospitality of a good fly shop, and the trout in the Rio Grande, I was reminded that the best parts of fly fishing often have very little to do with the fish.

It’s the places you go, the people you meet, and the stories that follow you home.

And those are the things worth holding onto.